Sirius cautiously entered Aoife's room, anticipating a lamp to crack open his head. On the contrary, he found the room eerily clean, Everything immaculate and dust-free. The last time he'd entered, the room was a complete mess, everything strewn on the floor and bed, even on the window.
"Hey Aoife," he called from the doorframe tentatively. "You okay?"
"I'm fine, Sirius," came the chirpy answer. Aoife neared the door, duster in hand. "Why don't you come in?"
He moved forward warily, quite unnerved by her reaction. He was sure that if his mother was to materialise suddenly, (if Walburga had deserted him at birth — something he'd always heartily wished), then he wouldn't have been so calm and unruffled. His entire room would've been blown into smithereens, (right after he'd blown up Walburga).
Sirius perched himself on the bed, watching Aoife bustle around the room, dusting anything and everything. When she was dusting her curtains, he spoke up : "how do you feel about all that. You're taking it better than I would, you know."
"About what, Sirius?" she asked, not even turning around but dusting the curtain with new vigour. Her fingers clenched on it, as if she was stopping herself from crying.
"About your mum turning up from nowhere," he put it bluntly. "If you want to talk about it, bad-mouth her or anything, I'm available."
She turned around swiftly, throwing the duster on the carpet. Her eyes were filled with held-back tears, and she quickly crossed the room before flinging herself into Sirius's arms. He shifted her on the bed, hugging her close just like James had hugged him when he'd left Number 12 Grimmauld Place for good, and listened to her sobs.
"I nev—never thought that she'd reappear," she hiccoughed, Sirius's shirt soaking up her tears. "She left when I was ten."
"I wish Walburga had left me," Sirius mumbled. Aoife looked up, scandalised.
"How would you feel if you were a ten-year-old left to fend for yourself in London?" she asked him, her tears drying,
"You were left alone in London?" Sirius looked repulsed. "What sort of mother would do that? ... I actually know a few."
Aoife laughed weakly. "After my dad died, sometime after I turned 6, (he was a great father, better than that lady who claims to be my mum), a London bloke came to our village in Ireland, and mum married him after a few weeks of romance. Some Potter bloke. Filthy rich, has a heart hard as his head and is willing to do anything for the things he wants. He didn't want a daughter—,"
"Wait, a Potter bloke?" Sirius interrupted, his mind flying to James. "Are you sure that was his name?"
"Yes," she said nonchalantly. "Quite a common surname, Potter. You can find one in every street."
"Really?" he genuinely looked shocked. "My best mate's name is Potter, and I've never met anyone else with the same name. Was that bloke a wizard?"
"I don't think so. He was the Editor of some big newspaper. After we'd shifted to London, (that-lady-who-claims-to-be-my-mum refused to leave me with my grandma, and whisked me off to the city with her), the Potter bloke stopped insisting for me to move out, but maintained a sullen silence on the matter. On my 10th birthday I was out at one of my school mate's house, and when I came back, there was no one at home."
"So they just left you like that?" he said, incensed. "What sort of parents do that? And I thought no family was as messed up as mine."
"I assure you, mine's pretty messed up," she gave a hollow laugh. "I have two pair of senile grandparents, a dead father, an evil step-father, an abandoning lady-who-claims-to-be-my-mum and a few evil uncle and aunts."
"What happened after they left you?"
"That's where McGonagall comes in," she smiles softly.
"Wait," Sirius interrupts. "McGonagall?"
"Yes, the bloke who looks after the chapel I treated your brother at," Aoife said. "Malcom McGonagall. He found me wandering the lonely London alleys, and contracted the correct authorities to place me under the care of the aforesaid saline grandparents. After a few years I shifted to live with my uncle in Scotland until I got a degree and a job, where I met McGonagall again. He became my fairy godmother from thereafter."
"What's a fairy godmother?" Sirius asked, mentally adding 'a secret brother' on the list of things to ask his Transfiguration professor.
"You haven't heard of Cinderella?" Aoife asked, astonished. "It's a classic."
"I'm a wizard. I've never heard Muggle stories," Sirius answered. "What's Cinderella? Sounds like an illness."
"It's a name," she narrowed her eyes playfully. "A fairy godmother is one who protects you, and fulfills your heart's desire."
"Why'd you need someone like that? Your uncle wasn't nice, I warrant," Sirius said, flinging himself on the bed and pulling Aoife with her. She complied, huffing a bit, before continuing, her eyes on the ceiling.
"He was a bit ... violent, due to ... something." Aoife could feel Sirius's eyes on her, but didn't react or acknowledge them.
"It's the marks, isn't it?" he asked quietly.
Aoife inhaled sharply. Sirius accepted this non-verbal answer. "I'm quite good at putting two and two together."
"So he didn't tell you?" This time, she turned to face him.
Sirius smiled lazily, but his eyes showed his fury for Donaldson. "Reg has always been a loyal secret keeper. No need to worry about them, unless you get on his wrong side. He's a manipulative bastard," he said fondly.
Aoife gaped at him for a bit. "Now, spill the tea about you and Reg," he said abruptly.
"What tea?" She could feel herself blushing, and laid back to hide it from his view.
"What's going on between my brother and the best Redhead I know? No offence to Evans though. She's quite lovely," Sirius said quickly, propping himself up on his elbow to look at Aoife.
"Who's Evans?" she asked, desperately trying to change the topic.
"My best mate's fiancée," he answered easily, gaze zeroed on Aoife's face, which was still rosy. "Don't try to change the topic though."
"I hugged him," she blurted out.
"So," he looked confused and vaguely disappointed. He was hoping for a snog or something. "You've hugged me too many times to count, but never blushed." He looked like a jealous schoolboy.
"It's different," she said wildly. "You're you and he's he."
"I'm also a he, Ifa-Fifa," Sirius said, coming up with a ridiculous nickname on the spot. "Just remember, I'm the godfather, and the name's Elvendork. It's unisex."
He rushed out of the room before she could comprehend his statement. A few seconds later, Sirius could hear her furious and embarrassed shouts, intermingled with death threats. He rushed into the meadow, bumping into his frazzled brother. "What happened Reg?" he asked, forgetting Aoife for a minute. She appeared behind him just then, but stopped midway of a threat when she saw Regulus's face.
"It's the Inferi. They're quite a big problem now..."
YOU ARE READING
INFERI (REGULUS BLACK)
Fanfiction"If you ever need me, I'll be at the Potter's." These were the words that kept on rolling around Regulus' head. His brother's last words before he left the house, bloodied and bruised. He didn't blame him of course. It must've been hell living as th...
